The Mummy 4: The Curse of Hatred
by marybug6otnile
Summary: (Sequel to Imhotep's Revenge) Things aren't going well for the O'Connell family. Terrifying nightmares, attacks from strangers, and a horrifying crash into an icy river are only the beginning of their troubles. Can things get any worse? You bet.
1. Default Chapter

A/N:

Hello All! And how are you this fine morning/afternoon/evening/whenever you're reading this? I'm pretty well, thank you. Right, enough of that. I KNOW I promised a sequel what, oh, a year ago? What can I say? I'm not any more immune to qwriter's block thanâwellâthe next person.

Next person: Hey! I am too immune to writer's block!

Me: Well, then fine. YOU might be. But I am NOT. So there. makes face

next person sulks

Anyway, here (finally) is the sequel to Imhotep's Revenge. You will, by the way, want to read Imhotep's Revenge first if you haven't already ;-) Otherwise, this all will be horribly confusing. However, I'm not your mum. Read away if you wish ï.

Neffie: Hi! How are you? Well, here it is. I finally wrote the bloody sequel. Can you believe how awful writer's block is? Ugh, I nearly perished. ;-) Anyway, this chappie is dedicated to you, cuz you're the only one of my old reviewers who has hung around. Maybe I'll hear from more and be able to dedicate chapters to them, no? Ok, enough desperation. Enjoy the story, Neffiegirl.

To all my other reviewers from IR (that is, Imhotep's Revenge): HIIIII! I missed you! Sorry it took me so bloody long to write this. Anyway, thank you all so much! I LOVE your reviews! I read them every so often and am inspired to overcome any and all forms of writer's block. I hope to hear from you all soon. Email me whenever you can, alright?

Alright, no more boring blabbing from me. Read on!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of TM characters, nor will I ever (said with great sorrow). I do, however, own my original characters that never appeared in either Mummy movie. So there.

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Hatred is a powerful thing.

It can tear sanity from the minds of men, snatch emotion from any living creature, and blind anyone and everyone to anything but its devastating effects.

It has the power to command armies, the ability to destroy nations, the capacity to manipulate entire worlds.

Hatred can rightfully be described as a appalling fire, drowning men in its scorching flames, devouring human souls in mere seconds, leaving nothing behind but a marred and empty shell; yet also as a tempting portion of chocolate, able t melt seamlessly into darkness, its taste sweet and its effects gratifying.

Its death toll is many, its destruction infinite.

It is worse than any physical weapon, able to slice cleanly through anyone's heart and thereby infect it with any and all types of darkness.

There isn't a person alive today who hasn't been victim to its almost seducing ways, who hasn't given in to temporary insanity in order to lessen the temptations it can fold on them; yet for some, its call is stronger than it is for others, almost to the point hat it controls their every move.

Imhotep was one of these people; driven so much by his hatred for the O'Connells that it caused a lapse in his sanity.

Of course he did have good reason to detest the O'Connells, if there could be a good reason for he rage he felt at the mere mention of their name; they had defeated him and his love—Anck-su-namun—not once or even twice, but three times.

Three times

Imhotep growled under his breath, his thoughts merely fanning the flames of loathing he held for those people. How could it be that a simple family of three—no, four now; they had adopted that little brat Shanala, or so he'd heard—defeat him, a reincarnated ancient Egyptian with the terrible and awesome powers granted to him for enduring the Hum Dai—the most terrible of ancient Egyptian curses in which his tongue had been cut off, his eyes gouged out, and his body sealed in a coffin with flesh-eating scarabs.

Imhotep shuddered despite the heat; the mere thought of those days locked in that airless, pitch-black sarcophagus with those terrible insects made his skin crawl, as if the scarabs were still scrabbling over his flesh as he stood regally in the desert sun.

"My Lord?"

Imhotep turned, his troubling thoughts interrupted by the deep voice that had called o him.

His captain-of-the-guard—a dark-eyed monster of a man named Abitula--smiled slightly, "The rumors are true; the O'Connell family is moving from London, even as we speak."

Imhotep smirked, shaking his head as he faced the desert horizon; nothing but miles of sand that danced in the hot wind and rippled eerily in the sun's rays greeted him. He considered Abitula's words thoughtfully; did the O'Connells honestly think that leaving their current home—one they had lived in for over a decade—would prevent hi from finding them? He would discover where that had moved, and then he would go to their house himself and crush their bones into fine powder.

The thought sent a shiver of pleasure up his spine, and he turned to the captain, grinning broadly, "Excellent work. Do not lose track of them. We must know where they are going, so that we can close in and attack."

"Yes, My Lord."

Imhotep turned then, preparing to walk away; Abitula stopped him.

"My Lord? I don not know if this is a significant detailâbut we have found that the boy, Alex O'Connell, will be here in Egypt soon." Abitula smirked, "It sees he is undertaking training to become a Medjai."

Imhotep's disturbing smile widened, "And the girl?"

"Her brother insisted that she be with him."

Imhotep laughed; it was a hollow sound, as if his soul was an empty cavern, devoid of any emotion.

"Excellent. We have two--"

"—with only the hassle of one," Abitula nodded in agreement, his own nasty smirk splayed on his lips.

Imhotep turned away from the horizon then, looking out over the hundreds if soldiers gathered before him.

"Tell the men to keep their eyes sharp for the children. As they have yet to reach Egypt, I will take my own men with me to personally greet them and their parents."

His dark eyes flickered, a hungry flame dancing in them, "I have a feeling they may be expecting me."

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Many miles away, in a beautiful manor in London, Shanala O'Connell awoke with a scream.


	2. Chapter One

HELLO! Oh, I'm sorry, Dear, I must look like a yeti in this getup! Right-o, sry. Just felt like saying that for some reason or another. REVIEWS! YAY!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm so happy! Sing with me! I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

No more.

Ok, so who here wants to read another chapter? Then READ IT! HA! Ok, I'm sorry. It's Friday, the end of a very long and difficult week, and I am therefore more than slightly hyper.

Neffie: Hello! How are you? I'm good, thanks for asking. I still LOVE your Van Helsing stry. I'm sorry I haven't been able to read/review it for a while; the internet seems like a bit of a hazy dream lately....begins drooling stupidly No...more...schooooool....

Nakhti: HI! Just to let you know, I am writing this in a very hot and claustrophobic car, so if I keel over in a dead faint, you'll know why. THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING!!!!!!!!! Just for that, this chappy is yours. Teehee. I'm so sweet. And nice. And clever. And--keels over in a dead faint Revives Oh, hello. What was I saying?

Jessica: Hello! Thank you for the kind review! Next chappy will probably be yours. ï It was good hearing from you! I hope your doing well!

Now, to everyone both far and near: I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I have SO much homework it's killing me! (that and I just bought The Sims 2, which has somehow latched strong fingers around my throat and refuses to allow me to tear myself away)....Yes, that. And homework.

Right, enough of my blabbing on and on and on and on.....READ, you vermin! ï

Chapter One

There is a calm, silent time of night that occurs between twilight and dawn.

It is a time in which all is still and the world appears to be completely abandoned; an hour when the land holds no living thing except vegetation and a few stray animals. During these few moments, the sky seems to turn into a beautiful pool of black velvet in which the stars all shine clearly and no cloud is in sight; a faint breeze whispers through the trees, carrying a secret only it knows; the slightest tinge of rain is carried on the wind, even if it has not stormed in months; and one can taste the mystery that hangs thick, like a curtain, in the atmosphere.

During this time not a sound is heard—as if anything capable of making noise has suddenly become mute or been stricken dumb by the beauty of the moment.

This still moment, the most peaceful time of the day...was shattered by a blood-curdling scream that erupted from the O'Connell manor located in London.

The O'Connell manor was, perhaps, the most stunning piece of architecture in the large, upscale neighborhood in which it resided. It slept peacefully, nestled in a large grove of trees that stood in a jumbled mass next to a minute creek that weaved its way through the forest, cackling and whirring quietly in the night. Constructed in the classic build of mansions in the era, the house stood three stories tall, gleaming regally in the moonlight as if it were some long-silent king. Burnt sienna bricks climbed their through the entire outside of the house, ending in a white marble balcony that jutted out above a spacious porch and gleaming steps that trickled their way down to a pebbled walkway.

The pathway wound through the wide estate—the waves of rippling grass, the color-dotted garden, the gushing fountains—and finally completed its journey at the top of a smooth driveway, which held Rick O'Connell's pride and joy: his car.

The windows of the mansion, which had a moment ago appeared as black crystal in the already-fading moonlight, suddenly glowed to life as lights on the uppermost floor were switched on. The sound of hurried footsteps were very nearly drowned out as the startled screams continued, reverberating through the almost-empty house and originating from a large room—Shanala O'Connells room—at the top of the winding staircase.

Into this room burst Rick O'Connell (never mind he'd nearly splintered the door as he broke it open), revolvers thrust before him as a kind of shield, hair tousled, eyes red-rimed but alert, shirt half tucked into his wrinkled pants.

He ran in, breathing hard, "Who is it? What is it?" He paused, glancing around the room as his pale-faced daughter stared at him warily, "...WHERE is it?"

Just then a beautiful, middle-aged woman entered the room, rubbing sleep form her eyes—Evelyn O'Connell, Rick's wife.

"Oh, Rick, must you be so...so...overzealous?" she yawned.

Then her eyes fell on her daughter's sweaty, tear-streaked face and she was immediately wide awake, hurrying to her daughter's bedside, wrapping a calming arm around her.

Rick watched as she murmured to Shanala, and then lowered the guns, "So...there's no mummy?"

He said it with an almost tangible tinge of disappointment in his voice.

Evelyn ignored him, holding her daughter's head to her chest and brushing her hair back soothingly.

Rick sighed, wiping his face with his hands; he'd almost had a seizure, waking up to hear his daughter scream like that. Ever since they'd left Egypt a year ago, she'd been having horrible dreams that woke her—and everyone else in the house. He calmly reached Shanala and sat on the edge of her bed, next to Evy. He tweaked her chin playfully and smiled slightly, "Hey, Kiddo. Bad dream again?"

Shanala nodded, breathing hard, eyes flicking all over the room to assure herself that there was no one else there.

Rick wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb, "Same one?"

Another nod and a shaky sigh.

Rick cursed under his breath, earning a reproachful glare from Evelyn, "I knew we should've gone back and blown that guy into smithereens!"

Evy shook her head, trying vainly to calm both her husband and her daughter, "We couldn't; Alex was so weak from...what happened. It would have injured him. Plus, we were all tired and wounded, and we never even remembered about him until we were flying away in Izzy's dirigible, remember?"

Rick nodded, still seething.

"He's mortal now, you know. He has no powers...and Darling," Evelyn said, taking Shanala's face in her hands, "She's dead now. And we have the Book of the Dead. She's not coming back to get you."

'She' of course referred to Imhotep's lover, Anck-su-namun—Shanala's reincarnated ancient Egyptian stepmother, and Evelyn's as well.

Though back in those days, Evelyn had not been known by that name. She had been Princess Nefertiri, daughter of Pharaoh Seti the First—and, as his eldest daughter, sole heir to the throne.

Shanala glanced up at Evelyn anxiously, "But...but what is he comes back to get the book? And he brings her back, and she comes to the house and--"

"That ain't gonna happen," Rick interrupted, "Since number one: we're moving. Number two: we're getting rid of that book. And number three: I said so."

Shanala smiled slightly; she just loved the way her father thought he could control anything by simply 'saying so'.

'Her father. The words still seemed rather awkward to think of when she looked at this tall, dark and (of course) handsome man sitting by her, who had only adopted her a year before.

Shanala frowned slightly; it was miraculous that Rick O'Connell—who hated to be even remotely sentimental—adopted a girl he'd only just met a few days before.

Of course, the circumstances had been rather miraculous themselves.

Shanala had been resurrected by Anck-su-namun and Imhotep to be used as an offering to the evil Egyptian god, Set; she'd been accidentally 'rescued' by Rick when he mistook her for Alex—The O'Connells then thirteen-year-old son who had been kidnapped and placed with his abducted mother—and rode out a mile into the desert before actually taking the time to remove the tapestry she'd been cover3ed in and seeing it was a girl, and not his son. Over the next few days, after telling him of her past and even admitting to her guilt she felt for her mother's death, Shanala became rather close with him. Add to that the horrible tragedy of Alex's death and happy resurrection; her second rescue from a hatred-crazed Anck-su-namun; and weekly 'dates' of ice-cream sodas once they got back to London, and the sum was an extremely close father-daughter relationship.

Shanala's thoughts were broken by Evelyn's voice.

"—therefore, we really should just give the book to the museum; it is a terrifically infamous Egyptian artifact, you know."

"Yes, I know. Trust me," Rick replied, rolling his eyes, "But the thing is, Immy-Boy can get the book really easily from the museum, which would be about as catastrophic as Jonathan's cheese melts."

Shanala snorted; Jonathan Carnham, Evelyn's older brother, was a horrible cook.

Evelyn stifled the urge to laugh as she attempted to stare her husband down and 'win' the argument, "It belongs in a museum, Rick. Not in the middle of the ocean."

"Why not?" Rick asked innocently, winking at Shanala; they both knew what was coming up.

Evy didn't disappoint them. In seconds she had taken a deep breath and dove into a highly intellectual and detailed description of just why the Book of the Dead ('one of the most important of any ancient Egyptian artifact ever!' she fumed) couldn't be simply tossed not the ocean; she never paused to take a breath or gather her wits. Evelyn was famous for her long-winded speeches when she was excited or nervous. After a few moments, in which Rick and Shanala stared at her dumbly, Evy decided to wrap up her speech:

"...it's a priceless artifact and, whether 'Immy-Boy' is after it or not, it does not deserve to be treated as some...some..."

Evelyn floundered for the right word, gesturing fanatically as Rick and Shanala suppressed giggles.

Finally, she spat, "Oh, fiddle. Do with it what you will, but know this Rick O'Connell:"

Rick winced; he knew he was busted if she'd used his first and last name.

"When I lose my job as a Bembridge scholar because YOU wouldn't allow me to turn in a priceless treasure, it's your head—not mine."

Rick sat up straighter and saluted Evelyn, "yes Ma'am, thank you ma'am, may I have another MA'AM?"

Shanala burst into a fit of laughter.

Evelyn giggled and slapped Rick's arm playfully, "Stop it!"

Just then, Alex O'Connell—adorned with very messy hair and red eyes—stumbled into the room, stretching.

"Whazza matta?" he asked in the middle of a jaw-breaking yawn.

Rick turned to him, "Hey, Son. Didja sleep well?"

Alex scowled slightly, groaning as his eyes fell on his sister, "Ugh, not another nightmare?"

Shanala shrugged slightly, shooting Alex an apologetic gaze.

Alex, who somehow managed to spring into alertness in the blink of an eye, bounded onto the bed, grinning deviously, "I'll bet she fakes 'em to get attention!"

"I do not!" Shanala shrieked, throwing a pillow at Alex and hitting him full in the chest; Alex caught it and raised it above his head triumphantly.

That was when he lost his balance and fell form the edge of the bed, crashing to the floor.

Rick and Shanala howled with laughter, and Evelyn stood, muttering under her breathy as she walked to the door, "I live in a bloody circus of monkeys!"

"Hey, Mum," Alex called before she could leave.

She turned, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Alex pursed his lips and scratched the top of his head, grunting ape-like, "Oooh, ooh, ee ee?"

Rick and Shanala collapsed in fits of giggles.

Evelyn shook her head, unable to hide a slight smile, "I swear, Alex; you're the cheekiest monkey I've ever met. And you, Rick O'Connell, are the ringleader to this unfathomable attraction."

"What am I?" Shanala inquired curiously.

They all waited with baited breath to hear the sentence.

Evelyn smiled sweetly, "You are the poor, innocent child dragged into this home by no fault of your own."

Rick and Alex moaned, "Oh, PLEASE!"

Shanala grinned.

Evelyn returned the gesture, and then forced herself to be serious, "Really, now, all of you get up and get dressed. I'm making breakfast and if you aren't downstairs by the time it's done, Jonathan and I will eat it all!"

Alex and Rick, after exchanging glances, turned back to Evelyn, smirking mischievously, "Yes Ma'am, thank you Ma'am, may I have another MA'AM?"

Evelyn turned from her family, hiding a grin as she mounted the stairs.

"Behind her, she heard Rick mutter just loud enough for her to hear, "We really should be careful, kids. Your mother is a reincarnated ninja warrior princess."

"And don't you forget it!" Evy called over her shoulder.

As she reached the kitchen and began rummaging around the cupboards for a pan, she smiled to herself; Rick always acted so different around the kids. It was as if his normally stubborn and serious personality melted away ingot nothing and was replaced by this silly, laughable man that currently stood upstairs.

Evy sighed then, absently placing her found pan on the stove and reaching for the icebox; she loved that man—her whole family, really—so much it hurt.

Evelyn was one of those rare and hard-to-find gems, the kind of woman who is beautiful both inside and out. Her form was slender and petite, curved and full, the type that every woman strives for but very few manage to attain. Her copper skin shone flawless even in the dim lights of the kitchen, her features so perfect that they seemed carved by a master sculptor. Her cascades of auburns curls tumbled regally past her shoulders, a glimmering mass of silken tresses and brown locks. Elegant eyebrows arched regally over her melted-chocolate eyes, long and perfect lashes sweeping across them like a gate closing in dark pools. Her lips were full and smiling, the color of red that seemed unnatural, and yet strangely indigenous to her.

As stunning as her appearances were, her heart and soul merely magnified that natural beauty and allowed it to shine off of her like a welcoming glow. She was loving and kind, of course willing to sacrifice her own life in order to prevent her family in measure of harm. She was known to be very congenial and sweet, never to go about the day even a trace of a sulk. However, she also became very vicious when her family was provoked; she'd given a salesman a black eye once when he'd called Rick a 'good-for-nothing swine'. She was always there for her children, a fierce warrior to protect them, a soothing nurse to heal their broken hearts and scraped knees, and a very avid listener when they'd had a bad day at school. She was impossibly brilliant, and had already written and published three books since her marriage to Rick almost sixteen years ago.

Evy smiled blissfully, almost knocking the entire container of flour into the mixing bowl as she thought about her wonderful husband. She jerked her hand back when she saw the small mountain of flour rising up to greet her, and, after looking to around to make sure no one was watching, picked a few handfuls out and tossed them back into the container.

Hey, what her family didn't know couldn't hurt them.

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Unfortunately for Evelyn, her theory of 'no knowledge, no harm' was drastically incorrect.

For example, the O'Connells had no idea whatsoever that Imhotep, along with his large band of soldiers, were on a ship headed for London at that precise moment; though the O'Connells were unaware of their passage, their lives were about to be tossed carelessly into harm's inexplicable way once again.


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